


The Boy in the Firefly Field

by monstersanonymous



Series: Firefly Boys [1]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam Parrish is a little shit and I love that for him, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Ghosts, I Took A Hammer To Canon AU, M/M, Misunderstandings, Nerd! Gansey, Oh, Soulmates, canon typical language, canon typical magic, for a while, i think, kinda depressed Gansey, not knowing each others names?, okay I think that's all, uh, very Bluesey because I love them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 13,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29278290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monstersanonymous/pseuds/monstersanonymous
Summary: “Um, okay.” Blue shifted her weight and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt.“You’re like a mum.”“What?”The boy waved a hand about in a vague gesture that looked like it was supposed to explain something but actually didn’t. “You know. A mum. Chrysanthemum.”“Cryptic.”“Thank you.”----What if Gansey, Adam, Ronan, and Noah found Glendower before they met Blue?(a study in relationships)
Relationships: Adam Parrish/Blue Sargent, Richard Gansey III/Blue Sargent, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish (background)
Series: Firefly Boys [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2150148
Comments: 5
Kudos: 30





	1. Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm well aware this won't receive much attention; Bluesey isn't as trendy as Pynch, however this is my BABY. I've been working on it since August and it's very dear to my heart! I did so much research for this it's not ever funny.
> 
> Everything is intentional, so feel free to look up the meanings behind flowers or look out for repeating themes.

It’s March when Blue first met him. Maybe February. All she can remember was that it was still chilly, but not so much that she had to lug her winter coat to and from places anymore. And it was Tuesday. It was always a Tuesday. That’s the only thing she’s for sure on, really. She’d just finished tossing the trash bags into the bins behind the diner when she saw him. 

Somehow, he’d blended right into the night. Not in the way black cats or ravens do, but in the way stars do. Bright and burning, but overlooked. Belonging but taken for granted. He was dressed in clothes that were far too cold for the day as he gazed out into the field that formed off of the side of the road. His legs were sprawled about in the grass. An alarmingly orange Camaro was next to him. Blue didn’t pay him much mind, aside from her moment of staring. It wasn’t her problem. Her mind was focused on getting home. She simply forgot about the boy in the field.

Until the next Tuesday.

It was the same as before. Finish shift, take out trash, boy in field. Same position, same spot, same car, same clothes. If she didn’t know any better, Blue would have said no time had passed at all. She doesn’t know what possessed her to walk over to him. Maybe it was the curl of his shoulders that suggested he was cold. Maybe it was the way he looked at the moon as if it would give him answers. Maybe it was because an old lady at one of her tables called her a “kind and helpful young woman.”

“Uh,” she started. “You like, alright?”

The boy tipped his head back and looked at her, no sign of surprise in his eyes. “Does someone who sits on the side of the road at eleven at night seem “alright” to you?” His words had a sad tone to them, but his expression was unnervingly open and honest. Blue felt as though she had simply asked the wrong question. 

“Do you need help or anything?”

The boy turned back to the moon. “I think everyone needs help. Help cleaning the kitchen, help picking up their dog, help reaching out to others, help healing from heartbreak, help learning how to do taxes, help entertain themselves, help doing math homework. All kinds of help one can offer, and everyone needs some kind.”

“Um, okay.” Blue shifted her weight and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt. 

“You’re like a mum.”

“What?”

The boy waved a hand about in a vague gesture that looked like it was supposed to explain something but actually didn’t. “You know. A mum. Chrysanthemum.”

“Cryptic.”

“Thank you.”

“You always like this or are you just particularly drunk tonight?” Blue asked bluntly.

“Do I seem drunk to you?” the boy asked.

“Do you ever answer questions properly?”

“Do you always talk to random strangers late at night? That’s dangerous for a young woman of your type.”

Blue felt her expression lock down into something like to anger. “My. . . type?”

More hand waving. 

“Very helpful, thanks.” she said dryly.

The boy nodded solemnly, appearing to have not noticed the sarcasm. 

“Are you gonna be okay if I leave you here?” she asked.

The boy turned back to look at her again and Blue felt as though his eyes were not quite seeing her. “I’m in no immediate danger.”

Blue raised an eyebrow but said nothing else and she turned and left the boy to the moon and field.

He was back the next week. Blue didn’t hesitate this time. She dropped the bags in the bins and marched right over to the boy. 

He seemed startled by her presence as opposed to the last time. “You came back?”

“I do work here, you know.”

“I do, in fact, know, but my query is more in the terms of  _ why  _ are you here? With me?”

Blue plopped down next to him. “Fuck if I know.”

The boy stared at her but she kept her eyes stubbornly trained on the horizon. After a minute, he reached inside his pant pocket and rummaged around before pulling out a small plastic container. It looked like something you’d store hair pins in.

He popped over the lid and withdrew something. He stuck it under Blue’s nose and she recoiled from the sudden closeness, turning to glare at him. The boy was largely unaffected, eyes open wide like a doe’s and waving a little leaf in front of her face.

“Mint?” Blue warily took the leaf. The boy seemed satisfied with her reaction and took out another leaf and promptly stuck it in his mouth.

“Why not gum?” she asked him.

He turned to her, scandalized. “Are you aware of how awful that is for your teeth? The functions of today’s society has convinced the majority of human population that mint equals cleanliness, therein when people chew gum, they are 20% more likely to forget the sugar intake and residue that comes with gum and 8% more likely to forget to brush their teeth due to the already minty taste.”

Blue didn’t know what to do with this information. Not the stuff about gum, she couldn’t care less about the societal manipulation of the mint flavor, but rather the fact that the boy was a massive nerd. A dork. She’d pegged him for some rando with too much time on his hands that led to him chilling in a field in the middle of nowhere like an angsty poet from the 1800s.

“I. . . didn’t know that.”  
The boy nodded sagely. “Many don’t.”

“So that’s why you chew mint?”

“Hm? Oh, no, that’s why I don’t chew gum. I chew mint because I saw a man I highly admired chewing it when I was eleven and picked up the habit like an addiction.”

Blue shocked herself by laughing out loud. It was rudely loud in the suffocating quiet of the night, but she couldn’t help herself as tears leaked from her eyes. “Oh my  _ God _ .” she gasped.

The boy’s face twisted into one of mock insult. “Glad to see you find my embarrassing youthhood stories amusing, Jane.”

Blue struggled to swallow the last dregs of her laughter. “Jane?”

“Ah.” The boy’s face turned red, visible even in the dim glow of the streetlamp across the way. “I don’t know your name.”

Blue snorted. “So you picked Jane? Do I look like a Jane?”

“A rather generic one, Jane is. Anyone could look like a Jane!”

“Well, I don’t know your name either, maybe I’ll call  _ you _ Jane.”

“I think that’s fine and well and dandy; any respectable man with secure masculinity is comfortable with any name, be it neutral, masculine, or overtly fenimine as Jane is.”

Blue tucked her knees under your chin. “You’re super weird.”

“So I’ve been told.” The boy tore his gaze away from her and turned back to the moon.

“I won’t call you Jane.”

“I appreciate that, it would have been quite strange.”

Blue sighed and stood, brushing away stray dirt and blades of grass. “I should go, it’s late.”

The boy nodded in agreement but made no move to stand as well. 

She turned and walked to her bike. She only got so far as unchaining it before she walked back to the boy. “I’ll be back.” she said. “Next week.”

The boy’s face went soft with surprise. “You don’t have to.”

“I’ll be back.”

He blinked, processing before smiling politely. “I look forward to meeting you again, Jane.”

Blue’s fists clenched and unclenched. “Next week, what— what should I call you?”

“Call me?”

“What’s your name, dipshit?” she huffed.

“Oh.” the boy said quietly, turning back to the field. “My name.”

“Do you not have one?”

He smiled, as if she’d told a far funnier joke. “I have many.”

“Give me one, then.”

More silence. Then: “You can call me Owain.”

“That’s a strange name.”

“Well, it’s not mine, but Jane is not yours, so I consider it equal.” And that was fair, she guessed, since she hadn’t exactly offered him her name either.

“I’ll see you next Tuesday, Owain.”

  
  



	2. Gansey

Gansey’s mind was loud. It was a fault, he supposed, the noise in his head. It kept his mouth moving, his brain humming, he himself, awake. He’d never been so grateful for insomnia as he was on Tuesday nights. The girl,  _ Jane _ , occupied his mind in a strange way. He’d met her before, of course. Nino’s was a place in which he (and his friends) often frequented and he’d noticed Jane around. However, it seemed as though the first night she approached him, she hadn’t recognized him as a customer. If she did, she didn’t say anything. 

He couldn’t pin exactly why he was thinking of her. They’d only talked twice and the first time was rather brief. He wasn’t even thinking of her in a specific way, she was simply  _ there  _ in the forefront of his attention. She was in the tall grass outside the windows of Aglionby, in the left over pizza he had for lunch. Christ, he even heard her in Ronan’s cusses that decorated his sentences like Christmas lights on a pine tree. The boys did not hold the same opinion of her.

“Sounds like a serial killer.” Ronan said around a mouthful of cereal.

Adam cocked his head, “In this situation, I feel like Gansey is far creepier, but she’s not exactly in the clear.”

“I trust her well enough.”

“Is she hot?”

“Really, Ronan, I don’t feel like that’s relevant—”

“No, no, he’s got a point.”

“ _ Adam _ .”

“Gansey.”

He sighed. “I always think you’ll be on my side.”

Adam flicked a page of his textbook over. Gansey watched Ronan watch him. “Sometimes I am.”

“Rarely.”

“It’s not like I take Lynch’s side.”

“No shit, you always come up with a third argument.” Adam didn’t have a rebuttal for that, so he didn’t give one. Gansey wanted to . . . something. Walk, eat a mint leaf, build a building, run a mile, sleep for years,  _ something.  _ He felt restless. 

“How many days are left until Tuesday?”  
Ronan threw his empty bottle of apple juice at him. “If you wanna see her so badly go tonight.”

“I don’t know her work schedule!”

“Ask, dipshit. You have vocal chords, don’t you?” 

Adam snapped his fingers in Ronan’s direction, making a finger gun and pretending to shoot it. Gansey loved his friends, and his friends loved to make his life hard. It was the way the world worked, he supposed. 

“The current ambiguity of our relationship would make it awkward for me to ask.”

Ronan sighed. “I hate you.”

“Would you like a glass of orange juice?”

“Yeah, my cereal’s real fucking dry.”

“That’s disgusting, Lynch.”

  
  



	3. Blue

Blue did not hold her breath until the next Tuesday. She was not distracted, not in the slightest. She was simply. . . off. Thoughts of the boy (Owain, she has to tell herself), did not deter her from her day. She went to school, went to work, went home, all without issue. It was the nights that were the problem. It was when the wind made the branches of the tree outside her window sing with the promise of a fast approaching summer. The stars above that reminded her of gentle waves that had fallen out of tousled hair. Of glasses that left little red indentations along a freckled nose. She decided that it was the mystery. The unknown, the uncertainty that shrouded the boy that caused him to be on her mind. The other women of Fox Way shot her knowing looks throughout the week but stubbornly refused to voice their input. 

Tuesday afternoon she went to work. She was not jittery, nor nervous, she didn’t flub orders or spill coffee. She remembered her manners (though at times it was hard) and counted her tip money. A group of noisy raven boys crowded into a booth, but it wasn’t her section so she paid them no mind. The sun set, still unsettlingly early, and Blue clocked off, waving goodbye to the coworkers that cared that she was leaving. She gathered up the trash to toss into the bins and set out. 

Owain was in his usual spot, but she nearly missed him. This time he was laying down. His eyes were on the sky and his ankles were crossed. He looked boyish and ancient. He looked like he’s been waiting for something to happen for years, long enough to forget what he was waiting for. Blue laid down next to him and didn't say anything. 

“Eridanus. One of the biggest winter constellations.” he said at long last. “It’s Greek. There’s a lot of Greek constellations; Python, Andromeda, Orion. Most of them have mythology attached. But not Eridanus. It’s just a river. An ancient astronomer looked at the sky and said “those stars look like this very specific albeit incredibly boring river” and named it after the Eridanus. If he had a reason we don’t know it. It’s such incredible human bullshit. Years, we’ve called this grouping of stars a name for no real reason other than somebody did it first, and no one loud enough argued. If I discovered a constellation today, there’d be a whole voting system to name it. But times were simpler back then. Name your three headed dog Spot, and the line of stars River, sure, go ahead.”

Blue couldn’t help but think that he sounded both sad and intrigued. She supposed that's what happened when one thought hard about why humans do certain things. “You’re a nerd.” she told him.

He turned to her with big eyes. “Why, yes, I’ve been told.” The kicker was the entirely serious tone he had when he said this. Blue laughed at him, because she had to, just a little bit. Owain smiled slightly. “How’s your week been, Jane?”  
Blue had forgotten about the name. “It’s been a week.”

“Mine’s been longer.”

“Has it now?”

“Time is relative, you know.”

“Thanks, Einstein.”

“I’m at your service.” 

Blue rolled her eyes. “Tell me another fact.”

Owain looked at her. “You want to hear them?”

“You’re not a one pump chump are you?”

“Pardon?”  
“I’m asking if there’s more where that came from, dipshit.”

“Um,” he said. “Yes.”

“Great.”

“I’m quite knowledgeable.”

“Are you going to tell me another fact or not? Because I can leave right now.”  
“Sting rays!” he cried. “Giant freshwater stingrays. Himantura chaophraya. Native to southern Asia’s waters, though they may have historically been near Africa. They can be up to eight feet in diameter, with an additional eight and a half for the tail.”

“That’s big.”

“Indeed. They are rumored to weigh up to 1,300 pounds, but we have no confirmation of that.”

“Why not?”  
“Well, one, they’re rare and endangered, which makes them hard to find. Two, they can capsize small boats, so most are typically focused on getting away rather than capturing them. Three, it’s hard to get really good scales over there in time to measure. Four, they’re really, really big.”

“They’re endangered?”

“Probably. We’re not sure how many there are and, like I said previously, they’re hard to find.”

“What’s the heaviest confirmed regular ray?” she asked, for no reasons other than to keep him talking. 

“Ah, 170 pounds, I believe.”

“And the giant one is 1,300?”

“Rumored, but yes.”

Blue whistled.

Owain nodded. “I concur.” 

“Why do you memorize facts about endangered animals?”

He smiled, dim and haunted. “Why does anyone do anything?”

Blue shrugged. “To find meaning.”

He stared at her.

She stared back. “Next Tuesday then?”

Owain nodded.

  
  



	4. Blue

The next Tuesday Blue learned about the ways Germany is dealing with water scarcity. She learned that in 2070 about 204 of the freshwater resources in America won’t reach their monthly quotient. 

The one after that she learned about distant galaxies and potentially Earth-like planets.

“Do you believe in aliens?” she asked him, rolling a clover between her fingers.

He looked at her over wire framed glasses. “Do you believe in what you can’t see?” And well, really, that was all he had to say.

The Tuesday after, Owain ranted about Lord Byron and Percy Bysshe Shelley for an hour and a half before he got a phone call and had to leave.

“Apologies, Jane, but there’s a friend in dire trouble and I must go help. Something about a trampoline.”

Blue stood and brushed dirt off of her pants. “I get it. Go.”

Owain stood there, mouth opening and closing like he had something else to say. And then he got in his hideous orange car and left.

  
  



	5. Blue

The next week he looked tired. Not tired “I didn’t sleep last night.”. Not tired “It’s late and I want to go home”. The kind of tired that made the marrow of your bones heavier. That made everything weigh a little more, the kind that made the very air you breathe feel thick and sludgy. Blue let him lay in the grass and stare at the stars for a bit.

And then she began to talk.

“Ghosts.”

No response.

“Ghosts are real, you know. Lot of people don’t believe in them, because it disputes their ideas of the afterlife, or the fact that people have souls. Ghosts don’t have anything to do with either of those, though. They’re an after image. An echo of energy that will remain restless in the world until they forget that they’re troubled or the trouble is sorted. They’re shit to deal with, always so confused and vague. Usually they’ve no idea what they need to ‘move on’. And once they do, I got no clue where they go, but they sure as hell aren't here anymore and that’s all that matters.”

More silence, but it somehow sounded different. Less heavy, more. . . thoughtful. “My roommate is a ghost.”

Blue blinked. “Well, damn. I wasted an entire speech on you.”

Owain chuckled. “Not at all. My other roommate would all too happily argue with you as to how ghosts work and what they are, but the way you’ve explained it makes more sense to me. Sometimes he, my ghost roommate, can be awfully cryptic or quite smudgy at times.”

“Smudgy?”

“As if he is in the middle of fading away. Although there are numerous times where I can forget that he died many years ago.”

“Is he haunting your room?”

Owain shook his head, movement nearly undetectable in the darkness of the night. “I am the object of his. . . haunting.”

“Oh,” Blue wiggled on the grass, trying to get more comfortable. “Did you kill him?”

“Maybe.”

That’s not what she was expecting. She was trying for a laugh, maybe some sputtering. Not the heavy weight of the word ‘maybe’. 

“Maybe?”

“Not directly,” Owain plucked a blade from the ground and held it to the moon. “It was more of a trade off, really. I was young when he met his demise. He died at the wrong time, so I lived when I wasn’t meant to.”

“That’s quite a story.” Blue said. She meant it to. She was in no place to brush things like this off, and Owain. Owain sounded like this story hurt. People don’t lie about stories that hurt.

He smiled, somehow nostalgic. “It is indeed quite a story. An epic, really.” He turned towards her, locking eyes for the first time that night. “Maybe one for another night.”

Blue smiled. “Sure. Another night.”

  
  



	6. Blue

The next week he looked tired. Not tired “I didn’t sleep last night.”. Not tired “It’s late and I want to go home”. The kind of tired that made the marrow of your bones heavier. That made everything weigh a little more, the kind that made the very air you breathe feel thick and sludgy. Blue let him lay in the grass and stare at the stars for a bit.

And then she began to talk.

“Ghosts.”

No response.

“Ghosts are real, you know. Lot of people don’t believe in them, because it disputes their ideas of the afterlife, or the fact that people have souls. Ghosts don’t have anything to do with either of those, though. They’re an after image. An echo of energy that will remain restless in the world until they forget that they’re troubled or the trouble is sorted. They’re shit to deal with, always so confused and vague. Usually they’ve no idea what they need to ‘move on’. And once they do, I got no clue where they go, but they sure as hell aren't here anymore and that’s all that matters.”

More silence, but it somehow sounded different. Less heavy, more. . . thoughtful. “My roommate is a ghost.”

Blue blinked. “Well, damn. I wasted an entire speech on you.”

Owain chuckled. “Not at all. My other roommate would all too happily argue with you as to how ghosts work and what they are, but the way you’ve explained it makes more sense to me. Sometimes he, my ghost roommate, can be awfully cryptic or quite smudgy at times.”

“Smudgy?”

“As if he is in the middle of fading away. Although there are numerous times where I can forget that he died many years ago.”

“Is he haunting your room?”

Owain shook his head, movement nearly undetectable in the darkness of the night. “I am the object of his. . . haunting.”

“Oh,” Blue wiggled on the grass, trying to get more comfortable. “Did you kill him?”

“Maybe.”

That’s not what she was expecting. She was trying for a laugh, maybe some sputtering. Not the heavy weight of the word ‘maybe’. 

“Maybe?”

“Not directly,” Owain plucked a blade from the ground and held it to the moon. “It was more of a trade off, really. I was young when he met his demise. He died at the wrong time, so I lived when I wasn’t meant to.”

“That’s quite a story.” Blue said. She meant it to. She was in no place to brush things like this off, and Owain. Owain sounded like this story hurt. People don’t lie about stories that hurt.

He smiled, somehow nostalgic. “It is indeed quite a story. An epic, really.” He turned towards her, locking eyes for the first time that night. “Maybe one for another night.”

Blue smiled. “Sure. Another night.”

  
  



	7. Gansey

Gansey has been avoiding eating at Nino’s for about a month now. He tells his friends they should be focusing on eating healthier food. They make the argument that pizza has all the most important food groups. So Adam and Ronan went to Nino’s (with the statement that they will not buy Gansey pizza, which is true, they’ll just buy enough for him to eat their leftovers) and Gansey stayed home with his ghost. Said ghost was organizing water balloons delicately on the top of Ronan’s door. They looked suspiciously dark, so Gansey did not ask what they were filled with. 

“Noah,”

“Hm?”

“I told Jane about you.”

Noah blinked. “Oh, okay.”

“That’s alright?”

“It’s not like you scared her with it, right? She brought it up first.”

Gansey loved his friends dearly, including Noah. Noah’s uncanny ability to know things that had yet to be told however. . . jury was still out on that one. “She appears to be rather comfortable with the supernatural.”

“It’s not like you attract normal person friends.”

“You’re normal.” Gansey said, a gut reaction of trying to be comforting.

Noah gave him a look that was a little too close to one of Ronan’s stares before returning to his balloons. “I want to meet her.”

“I— I’m not so sure about that.”

“I don’t think she’ll be weirded out by us.”

Gansey shook his head. “No, that’s not it.” He sunk into the couching on the Monmouth couch. “I’m far more concerned that she’s a figment of an overzealous imagination.”

Noah didn’t say anything for a while, completing his task before materializing next to Gansey. “That’s Ronan’s job.”

“I suppose it is.” he said lightly.

  
  



	8. Gansey

The following Tuesday, Gansey didn’t even let Jane sit down before his mouth was open and words were spilling out.

“How, precisely, are you so sure ghosts exist?”

She raises an eyebrow at him, pausing mid-crouch. “Uh, I’ve seen one?” She smoothed a neon green skirt with her palms and sat. “Any other questions, officer?”

“A few, actually, yes.”

Jane shrugged, “Fire away.”

“You understand  _ what _ ghosts are, how so?”

She made a face, like one makes when they accidentally bite the rind of the orange as opposed to the pulp. “My family.”

“Are they ghosts? My condolences.”

She laughed, sharp and loud. “No, Jesus! They’re  _ weird _ . Psychics. They do tarot and tea leaf readings and shit. And occasionally they get in touch with the less physical part of our world and try to help those that need to move on.”

“That’s marvellous!” he cried, because it really was.

Jane looked stunned. “Is it?”

“Of course! Psychics. Wondrous. Really, it’s extremely difficult to find people that even  _ believe  _ in universe energies these days, much less be in tune with them. Is it your whole family?”

“Um,” Jane said, because she seems rather shell shocked. “I’m not sure. My mom’s a psychic. And I have some aunts but I’m not really sure if they’re actually related to me or not. I live with two of my mom’s friends and my cousin though, and they’re all psychic. My mom’s good at tarot and stuff, one of my aunts is good with like, physical touch and seeing the past. Another one is good with seeing ‘between time’ as she put it. Oh, but my cousin has a call service.”

“Fascinating. And you?”

“Huh?”

“Yourself, Jane. Are you. . .” He waved his hand about. “Blessed in anyway?”

Jane's face shuttered. “No.”

Gansey felt himself scramble. “I apologize, I don’t mean to step on a sensitive subject.”

Jane tucked her knees under her chin and scrubbed her face with one hand. “No, you didn’t know. I have a gift, but I can’t really use it.”

“May I ask what it is?”

She shrugged. “I’m a battery. A hotspot for psychic energy. I make it stronger, more clear, more usable. But I’m not psychic myself, so it does fuck-all for me. Helps to have me in the house when my aunts or mom is working though.”

Gansey pondered, unsure if he should answer with his gut or what he thinks the right answer would be. 

He chose neither, and changed the topic instead. “You know, a couple of days ago my ghost roommate pulled the most horrific prank on my other roommate.”

“Oh?”

He nodded. “Filled water balloons with Coke that had been mixed with a bit of gelatin.”

“He threw thick Coke at him?!”  
“No, far worse. He taped all of the balloons at the top of his door.”

“Oh,  _ no _ .” Jane gasped, laughter escaping from her lips.

“Indeed! My roommate went to slam his door angrily, as he often does, and this, this, Coke  _ slime _ splattered not only all over him, but it began to positively ooze down his door. Looked rather like a low budget horror scene.”

Jane was howling with laughter by the time he finished speaking. He let himself have a moment of pride and it in. Such a small girl with such a large presence. A patchwork cardigan and a neon skirt. A worn shirt with a logo he didn’t recognize on it. Butterfly clips. Purple lip gloss. Jane wiped the skin under her eye and smiled at him.

Gansey’s heart skipped a beat.

  
  



	9. Blue

Ages had passed since she met Owain. Blue doesn’t remember the exact date they met, but now she was wearing shorts and no longer lugging around an enormous jacket. And the fireflies were out. God, the fireflies were out. The fuckers were everywhere, she’d go to sit in the grass and the bugs would whirl up without warning. Blue thought they were mundane and annoying.

Owain thought they were wondrous.  _ Magnificent _ . Fireflies are apparently cannibals. Fireflies glow different colors with different species. Fireflies are energy efficient. Firefly eggs glow. Fireflies taste gross to predators due to a bitter chemical they produce in their blood. 

Blue didn’t realize just how much she was picking up from Owain until she found herself repeating things he’d told her. 

“Where did you learn all these firefly facts?” Maura asked one day over a too sweet pie.

Blue poked her crust with a fork. “A friend.”

“Ah, the one at the diner?”

It should be noted that Blue had not told her mother about Owain. “Yeah.”

“Ha!” Calla shouted, from another room. “The  _ boy _ .”

It should have noted that Blue has not told Calla about Owain, either. “Yes, he is a boy.”

“Will you kiss him?” Persephone asked placidly from her spot by the oven. She did not mean it in a gossipy way, it was simply a question that was asked.

“No.” Blue stabbed her pie. “No.”

“How come?” 

“He’s not my soulmate.”

“He might be.”

“He’s  _ not _ .” Blue had a soulmate, which not many people did. But Blue’s soulmate was also  _ dead _ , which put quite a damper on the whole idea of romance. Fortunately for her, if she kisses them, they’d be resurrected. Unfortunately, Blue is not interested in kissing corpses. It’s old news by now. For years, the prophecy said that if she kissed her soulmate, they would die, but one year it shifted. One year, her soulmate died. Blue thought that that was it. No more soulmate for her. Instead, the women of Fox Way saw something else. If she kissed her soulmate, they would live. 

And honestly, fuck psychic powers, because that all any of them know. No specifics. No timeline. Not even a name, a description, an eye color. What graveyard Blue should be digging in. Nothing. 

Maura thinks Blue should forget about the soulmate thing, her destiny will come to her.

Calla thinks Blue should focus in on herself, that she’ll find answers there.

Persephone thinks that is all more complicated than it seems.

Orla thinks that Blue should forget about the soulmate thing, because what even is a soulmate anyway?

Blue. . . Blue wanted to know what the  _ fuck _ was going to happen in the future, because certainly no one else would tell her.

This whole fiasco hung over her head until the next time she saw Owain. She found herself watching him, looking for a sign of something she didn’t yet know how to identify. Today he was standing. Owain only stood when something was on his mind, so Blue was automatically on her guard.

“What’s the buzz?” she asked, plopping down.

Owain pushed his glasses. “Well, it’s spring.”

“Sure is, genius.”

“My family is going on vacation.”

“For break? Cool.”

“To Greece.”

If Blue had been drinking, she would have spit it out. “ _ Greece _ ?!”

“My father has meetings there, so my sister and I are tagging along.”

Blue stared at him. “Owain.”

“Yes?”

“Are you rich?”

“My family comes from money.”

“Oh my God.” Blue fell backwards. She looked up at the stars. Of  _ course _ Owain was rich. He spoke like a rich person. He  _ dressed _ like a rich person. And bonus, she’d never met him before at her school, which meant he was either homeschooled or. . . 

“You’re a Raven boy.”

Owain blinked. “I. . .yes?”

“Can’t believe it took me this long to figure it out.” Blue sighed, dragging a hand down her face. If they weren’t already friends, Blue probably would’ve gotten mad and left. But in his defense, they were doing this whole secret identity thing, so she couldn’t hate him much. “Okay, whatever, so you’re going away for what, a week?”

“Two.”

“Two weeks.”

“Yes.”

“So I won’t see you for two weeks?”

Owain shifted his weight. “About that.” He reached inside his pocket and withdrew his phone. “May I, um, receive your number, please?”

“My number?”

“Well, I thought it would be rather convenient, to be able to text you whenever I, or you, wish. And for our current arrangement, I would absolutely hate to make you wait outside on a day where I had a conflict.”

“Yeah, uh, I don’t have a phone.”

“Ah. Well, its an inconsequential amount of money, really, and there’s an AT&T store not far from here—”

“No!” Blue bolted upright and swung to face him. “You, no, you can’t just  _ buy _ me a phone.”

“. . .no?” Owain seemed to not understand that, no, in fact, it was quite rude to simply pay for Blue’s phone.

“No.” she said firmly. “I’ve been meaning to replace my old one for a while and just never had the need. I’ll see if my mom can get me one, but it might take a while.” Owain accepted this but still seemed disappointed. “Here.” She took his phone.

“What’s this?”

“My home phone. You can only call at certain hours, otherwise my cousin will pick up, but I’ll still be able to talk to you until I get my phone.”

“Oh, alright! Wonderful.” Owain stared at the new numbers in his phone. Something about his wide eyes made something in Blue uncomfortable.

“What all are you going to go see, in Greece?”

Owain’s eyes lit up a different way, and he launched into a rant about mythology and scholars.

  
  



	10. Gansey

Adam stared at his phone. “And?”

“Contact information! Being in touch through technology is vital for friendships and relationships in today’s youth. Due to Jane and my’s predicament of only meeting once a week, we cannot speak at our leisure, thus, a phone number!”

Ronan snorted. “Great, now you can booty call her.” 

“Ronan.” Gansey sighed.

“You sayin’ you won't?”

“ _ Ronan. _ ” 

Ronan clicked his tongue. “C’mon, Parrish, I want pizza. Let’s go see that little girlfriend of yours.”

Adam smacked his shoulder. “Shut it, Lynch.”

“Girlfriend?” Gansey perked up. “Are you dating someone, Adam?”

Adam glared at him. “No. I’m just—”

“Stalking her?” Ronan supplied.

“Establishing a connection.”

“You sound like Gansey.”

“Do you want pizza or not?”

They left, whirlwind as they were. Noah materialized next to Gansey on the couch. Gansey, to his credit, did not flinch.

“It’ll be soon.” he said.

“What will?”

“Adam. He’ll figure it out soon.”

Gansey stared at the door they’d disappeared through. “He just might.”

“What do you think will happen?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I really don’t know.”

  
  



	11. Blue

Blue was having a nightmare. She had a lot of those, it seemed. Mostly snapshots of dark caves and dusty tombs, but every so often it was a lush forest and a buzzing in her ear. It was the feeling of wet leaves on her skin and the air leaving her lungs. Sometimes it was the phantom feeling of lips on hers. 

They were, to say the least, not pleasant dreams. Usually, she woke up and sucked down whatever tea-like concoction was in the house at the moment, and went back to bed. But this one had been too vivid. So here she sat. In front of the home phone, eyes trained on it like she could force it to ring.

Blue picked up the receiver. She put it down. She picked it back up. She started to punch in a number. She stopped. She started again. The dial tone hummed in her ear, just a tad too close to the buzz she knew from her dreams. 

A click.

“. . .hello?”

“Hey. It’s—” Blue, Jane, the girl from the diner, the one you tell facts to at midnight, the Tuesday girl, the one that shares the loneliness of the night with you. “Me.” 

“Oh.” A crackle, a shift. “Hello.”

“Hey.” This was, by far, the most awkward phone call she’d ever had. “I figured you’d be awake.”

“Me? Oh, yes, yes. Well. Yes, well.”

What a lovely conversation. “Yeah.” Not that she was helping with that. 

“It’s ah, quite late, where you are.”

“Where I . . . oh right, time changes. Did I interrupt something?”

“No, not at all. I’m eating lunch in the hotel right now.”

“Lunch? How big is the time difference?”  
“Nine hours.”

“Oh shit.” Blue tugged on the phone line. “You’re far.”

“Yes, well. Ocean and all. Mediterranian.” Blue could practically hear Owain fluttering his hands about. 

“What all have you seen there, so far?”

Owain breathed, loud enough to hear through the phone. “Are we not talking about why you’re awake at two in the morning, phoning me instead of going back to bed?”

“Nope.”

“Okay. So, yesterday we visited the Parthenon first, which is particularly fascinating not only because of its religious history, but for the fact that it’s one of the most famous ruins in Greece.”

Blue let his voice wash over her, dawn over a cold night.

  
  



	12. Gansey

Gansey has never taken so many selfies in his life. He’s not a technological pariah, like Ronan, but he tends to put the focus of his photos on his friends and his surroundings as opposed to himself. His social media are filled with various plants, buildings, bald heads, and freckled noses. But then, then there is. . . 

_ (9:37 am): [1 attachment] _

**(10:12 am): ur hair looks stupid**

_ (10:12 am): You’re* _

**(10:13 am): UR my worst enemy. Fuck you.**

_ (10:20 am): charmed, thanks _

**(10:43 am): where r u rn**

_ (10:43 am): Temple of Zeus _

**(10:43 am): manwhore?**

_ (10:43 am): Manwhore _

**(10:44 am): dang. kick over a column for me**

_ (10:44 am): i will Not _

**(10:44 am): shame**

Gansey sends Jane an average of three selfies a day (never more, he does know when he’s being excessive. He just. . . takes them on his phone and he’ll show them to her later). Ones with the sunset, ones with just half his face, trying to get the best angle of the sea. Ones with temples, with museum items. Ones with the man from the market downtown that he befriended while talking about types of fishing boats. 

In his defense, the day she got her phone, he sent a photo of the ocean from the ship he was one and she said:

**(5:34 pm) turn the camera around fuckass I bet your hair looks nuts rn**

And since then Gansey hasn’t stopped. And Greece is fine. Greece is wonderful. Greece is magical. Greece does not have girls that snort when they laugh, call him fuckass, and listen to him ramble about absolutely nothing for two hours. He wanted to be home. He wanted to tell her so much more. He wanted to tell her about Glendower. He wanted to tell her about Ronan, about Adam, about Noah. He wanted to introduce them to her. He wanted to learn her name. He also wanted to kiss her, but that was a Dilemma and one he was not prepared to deal with, so it went on the backburner.

  
  



	13. Blue

Blue was, undeniably, bored. Being able to text Owain was a curse and a blessing. She waited for his next text without even meaning to. She’d saved all of his ridiculous selfies to her new phone, putting them in a folder labeled “the nerd”. She hated it. She hated how often she stared at them, how often she laughed at her phone, how often she  _ called _ him. She hated him because she couldn’t hate him.

She scrubbed the diner counter angrily, rubbing at coffee stains that would never lift. The cleaner was dissolving her nail polish, little flecks of maroon and yellow dusted the counter. Across from her, someone cleared her throat. Blue flicked her eyes up, annoyed.

It was a boy. A boy like a sepia photograph. His skin was dusty, hair was dusty, eyes were a dull blue. He wore a Raven’s sweater, but it was rumpled and had threads sticking out of the hems. Blue raised an eyebrow.

“Hi,” the boy said. “I’m Adam.”

“Hi, Adam.” Blue said. “I’m cleaning right now.”

The boy tugged on his sleeves. “Yeah. Yeah I see that.” he shifted. “Yeah, I’m, um, I’m sorry I don’t do this often.” he laughed, strained and awkward. It was kind of endearing. Blue set her cleaning supplies down.

“Do what?” she asked.

“Could I, ah, could I get your number?”

  
  



	14. Gansey

Gansey had tan lines circling his wrist. He had pink skin on his shoulders and freckles around his eyes. He knew he looked like a mess. He’d gotten off the plan hours ago and immediately booked it to Henrietta. It was Tuesday, afterall. The Camaro’s engine was still cooling when Jane emerged from the diner. He waved to her, giddy, overeager, maybe, but still excited to see her.

“Hey, stranger.”

“Jane! Jane, come here, I got you something.”

She frowned at him. “Please tell me you aren’t the type to buy people ridiculous airport souvenirs.”

Gansey looked up from where he was rummaging in his pocket. “What? No, nonsense. Here.”

Jane stared at it. “A. . .rock.”

Gansey cradled her hand in his and flipped it over. “A fossil.”

“Whoa. What is it?”

“Hallstatt ammonites from the limestones of Chios.”

She whistled. “Damn. Era?”

“Devonian. Approximately 419.2 million years ago.”

“That’s so cool.” The words were whispered, barely even breathed, as if she hadn’t meant to say them aloud. It made Gansey disturbingly proud of himself.

“I found it while boating.”

She looked up at him, “Thank you.” 

A bicycle bell chimed a little ways away. Jane’s head snapped up, towards the parking lot.

“Adam?” she called to a shadow.

Adam Parrish stepped into the glow of a nearby streetlight. “Hey. Did I leave my jacket here earlier?” He was oddly smiley, buoyant and only focused on Jane.

“Adam?” Gansey asked.

“You know Adam?” Jane asked.

“We. . . go to school together.” Adam said slowly, locking eyes with Gansey.

“How do you know Jane?”

Adam’s eyebrows furrowed. “Jane? Oh.  _ Oh. _ She’s uh,” He looked at Jane. Jane looked at him. “My girlfriend?”

“I,” Gansey’s mouth dried. “I was unaware.”

“It’s very new.” Jane said. “You were in Greece.”

He turned to her. “You didn’t tell me.”

“Did I have to?”

He supposed not. “Well, I’m off then. Adam.” Adam nodded at him. “Enjoy your ammonites, Jane.” 

The Pig was merciful and started on the first try.

  
  



	15. Blue

Blue watched Owain speed off into the night.

“That was weird.” Adam said.

Blue shook her head. “It didn’t occur to me that you would know Owain.”

Adam had a strained look on his face. “Owain?”  
“Oh, yeah, I guess that’s not his real name. It’s a thing we have. He calls me Jane, I call him Owain.”

“He’s never told you his real name?”

“I’ve never told him mine.” It wasn’t an answer but it felt like one. 

Adam was staring at the emptiness Owain had left behind. Laughter fell from his lips like fog over a bridge, soft, sad, heavy. 

“What?” Blue asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing. I just,” He looked up at the moon. “I feel like I just lost a race I didn’t know I was running.”

She stared at him. “You’re weird.”

He shrugged. “Wanna help me find my jacket?”

  
  



	16. Gansey

Gansey avoided his friends. This was a terrible move, because Gansey never avoided his friends, so they immediately knew something was wrong. None of them voiced this, but it was clear. Ronan was suspiciously not in his room when Gansey came home. Adam sat next to him in the library. Noah flickered behind him as he pieced together streetlights from cardboard and set them up in small streets. 

“Fuck is up with you, Dick?” Ronan said, presumably. He said it around a mouthful of stale tortilla chips, so one could never be certain.

“There is nothing particularly ‘up’ with me.” A chip hit the back of his head. “Nothing more than the usual.” Another chip. “Use your words, Ronan.”

Ronan grinned, he knew he’d won already. “Sit down, I’ll be your fucking therapist and shit.”

“Thank you, you’re exactly the therapist type.” Gansey said drily.

Ronan pointed a chip at him. “Sit. I got this.”

“So. . .” Gansey scratched his ear. “Do you happen to remember Jane?”

“Your roadside girlfriend? Yeah.”

“She’s not—” Gansey sighed. “She’s engaged in a. . . romantic relationship with Adam.”

Ronan inhaled a chip wrong and coughed. “ _ Adam _ ?! Parrish?”

“That one, yes.”

“Jane is the Maggot?”  
“You know her? Pardon, Maggot?” Gansey squawked.

Ronan held his hand flat and lowered it through the air. “Super short. Like really fucking short. Angry. Five feet and one thirty pounds of whoop-ass?”

“You shouldn’t comment on a lady’s stature, Ronan, you were raised better.”

Ronan glared at him. “Whoop. Ass.”

Gansey rolled his head back and looked at the bare ceiling. “Choppy hair? Works at Nino’s? Always seems to have a butterfly clip in her hair?”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

“ _ Damn _ .”

“Thanks, Ronan.”

“How did you find out about the. . . Jane and Parrish?”

Gansey shrugged. “He forgot his jacket and swung by.”

“Well, shit.”

Indeed. “It was a rather awkward situation.” he said bitterly.

Ronan shifted on the couch. “Are you like, good?” Gansey stared at him. “Hey, man, I’m doing my best here.”

He sighed. “No I am not, like, good.”

“Why?”

“Why?”  
“Why. Last I heard she was ‘not my girlfriend Ronan, I’m offended you would suggest something like that’ and ‘you all would really love Jane instantly, it’d be a joy to all get together at some point’.” Ronan settled against the back of the couch and looked at the wall. “I don’t get why your got your fuckin’ twizzies all twisty.”

His tone implied that he did, in fact, get why Gansey’s twizzies were all twisty, but wanted Gansey to spell it out for him. Sometimes Gansey hated that they’d been friends for so long. “I don’t like it like this. I,” A huff. “I saw her first.” he mumbled.

“Dude.”

“I’m aware.”

“Gross.”

Gansey groaned. “I’m  _ aware _ . She’d kill me for saying that, too. Flay me alive in broad daylight and leave my innards strewn about for the vultures.”

“Probably.”

He drummed his fingers against cheap leather. “I did see her first.”

“I’m like, 90% sure that that counts for absolute shit.”

They sat in silence, Ronan bouncing his knee in a rhythm Gansey couldn’t keep track of. Gansey ran his fingers over the creases in their couch, remembering, remembering, remembering. 

“Maybe you should tell Adam.” said a soft voice next to his ear. Gansey didn’t startle, for once.

“I can’t possibly fathom why that would be a good idea.” he told Noah.

The ghost shrugged and slid onto the couch. “Honesty. Stop avoiding your friends.”

Ronan clicked his fingers at him.

“Ronan agrees.”

Gansey glanced at him. “Traitor.”

“I’m a good fucking Catholic boy.” he said. “You really think I’d tell you to lie?”

Ganesy sighed, again.

  
  



	17. Blue

It was Tuesday. Adam has been here for about an hour, sitting in the booth and chatting with her as she wiped down the tables. On a normal day, she wouldn’t be able to talk this much, but the diner was dead tonight, so she had time to spare.

“You meet with Owain tonight, right?”

Blue dumped some table’s half used napkins in the trash. “Yeah. Probably going to learn some random fact about a thing I didn’t previously care about, against my will.”

Adam snorted. “Yeah, that sounds like G— Owain.”

“He gets on my nerves sometimes. You know, a week ago he re-explained the entire rock cycle to me. All condescending and shit to, like ‘Well, I’m sure you learned this at your schools geology class, however I’m not sure the extensions by which they taught you, so you may be unaware’ ba blah ba blah ba blah.” she said. “Pretentious dick.”

Adam choked on his coke, trying to swallow laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, you just sound like a . . . friend of mine.”

Blue squinte. “Shark Boy?”

“Shark. . .oh, Ronan? Yeah, him.” Adam stirred the ice in his cup. “You two are kinda similar.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Uh huh.”

“You are!”

She checked the time on her phone. “My shift will end soon. Wanna stick around until then?”

“Sure.”

“Cool. Lemme grab the trash then.”

Adam hung around as she tossed out the trash and wiped down the last of the tables. Owain’s garish and charming Camaro was already parked on the side of the road. Adam dropped a hand on her shoulder. Discomfort ran down her spine. She shrugged it off. 

Owain was sitting in the grass, watching the fireflies dance through the air. Blue shrugged off the jeans jacket she was wearing, balled it up, and tossed it at his head. He let out a yelp of surprise. 

“Jane!”

She was doubled over with laughter. “That gets you everytime! How do you not expect it?”

“I was lost in a particularly peaceful train of thought!” he cried. He stood and dusted off his khakis. “Oh. Parrish.”

Adam nodded towards him. “Owain.”

Owain smiled, pained and thin. “Lovely to see you.”

Adam glared at him. “Figured you couldn’t avoid me here.”

“Right.” He shifted his weight. “Well.”

Blue looked back and forth. “Should I know something?”

“Absolutely nothing at all.” Owain said.

“Don’t worry about it.” Adam said.

Blue glared at them. “Whatever. Whenever you two quit comparing fucking  _ dick _ sizes, I’ll be over here.” She plopped down in the grass, a bit of the ways off. Adam and Owain shuffled away to talk; Owain waving his arms, Adam standing rigidly with hunched shoulders. Blue looked at the stars and wished she was one of them. 

After a while, Owain joined her. “Do you know the myth of the constellation, Virgo?”

“Did you sort your shit out?”

“Her original name was Astraea.”

“Owain.”

“She was Hope, specifically Pandora’s Hope, that was trapped in the box with all of the gods abandoned her. She was the last to leave Earth, and the gods made her the constellation Virgo to honor her.”

“Do  _ not _ bullshit me right now, Owain.” Blue hissed.

“Imagine that. Staying behind to provide hope to the first dregs of humanity and when you return to heaven, all the gods do is make you into a pretty shape of stars?”

Blue reached over and grabbed his chin. “What is  _ up _ with you?”

His brown eyes met hers and he looked at once old and young. He smiled grimly. “Youth, my dear Jane. It’s a curse like no other.”

She supposed that was all she would get out of him about it. “Where’s Adam?”

“Went home.”

Without saying bye? Kind of a dick move. “Hm.”

“Don’t judge him. He just didn’t want to be angry around you. It’s his version of kindness, I presume.”

She kicked the ground. “It’s rude.”

“He’s a complicated fellow.”

“I’m. . .” she sighed. “Going to ask you for relationship advice.”  
Owain looked at her, expression mixed between startled and scandalized. “ _Why?”_

She scrubbed her hands over her face. “Because right now I have two friends in the world and the other just ditched his girlfriend to bike home without even saying goodbye.”

“Oh.”

“Is this fine?”

“It’s. . .” He pushed his glasses up. Pulled them back down. Messed up his hair. “You may speak, as you wish.”

“Cool.” She cracked her knuckles. “I’m gonna break up with Adam.”

Owain froze, a minute action but noticeable if you were paying attention. Blue was. “May I ask why?”

“I like him.”

“Is that not a . . . motive to continue to date him?”

“I just. . .  _ like _ him. He's nice. Polite. Smart. Funny. He’s pretty and compliments me.”

“Pardon, but I’m excessively confused.”

Blue sighed. “I don’t love him.”

“It’s been a mere month.”

“I’ll never love him.”

“Ah.”

Blue knocked her feet together. “Gut feeling.”

“I assumed.”

“I feel bad.”

“I’d imagine.”

“Do you have anything more useful to say?”

Owain laughed lightly. “Not in the slightest. I’ve been in only a few relationships, most of which were ended by the other person, fed up with my lack of attention to them or obsession with the mythical and magical. The ones I have ended were days long; blind dates with girls that were the children of politicians, who I had to let down because I’ve no interest in elevating my status via publicity stunts and the idea of being a part of the US Congress is less than seductive.”

Blue stared at him.

“What?”

“Sometimes I forget that you’re rich and pretentious and not just eccentric and a white male.”

“I— thank you?”

Blue rolled onto her side so that she was fully facing him. “You didn’t tell me you were involved with politics.”

Owain wrinkled his nose. “I? No, God forbid. My mother is a senator.”

“A senator?”  
“Republican senator of Virginia.”

Blue recoiled. “You’re a  _ republican _ ?!”

“In terms of the government, I do believe in a smaller one, yes. However, I am less than enthusiastic about how republican has become synonyms with words like bigot, racist, and sexist.”

“I still don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

“Okay.”

Blue suddenly remembered that they were supposed to be talking about Adam. Then she remembered that she’d never talked to Adam this long, this constant. She felt guilt, but the kind of guilt that a child felt when stealing a cookie. 

“I’m going to break up with Adam.” she said.

“Be gentle with him.” Owain said.

“I think he’d hate that.”

He sighed. “Most likely.”

“Hey.” Blue grabbed his arm. “Be his friend afterwards, okay?”

Brown eyes turned towards her. “I think it would be wiser for you to do that.” He laid his hand over hers and gripped her fingers gently. “But I’ll be there for him, however he needs.”

She closed her eyes and gave into stupidity. The grass beneath her scratched her cheek and she leaned forward to rest her forehead against Owain’s. It felt more intimate than should be allowed. “Thank you.”

  
  



	18. Gansey

Adam worked straight through the next two weekends and didn’t come to Monmouth after school. Ronan was particularly pissy and didn’t show up to school at all. All in all, Gansey was having, well, a shit two weeks. Jane said that she’d texted Adam, that he insisted he was fine, but Gansey knew him and believed that about 20%. But he waited. It was Adam Parrish. What else could he do but wait?

It was 2 am and Gansey was working on building Boyd’s Auto Shop out of the cheap clay he’d found at the grocery store. The door slammed open with the force of teen melodrama and repressed rage.

“Welcome back, Ronan.”

“Orange juice.” Ronan said.

“Fridge.” Gansey replied.

“Gansey,”

Gansey dropped his clay. “Adam! Hello! You’re here! Hi. Welcome. Hello.” He swallowed. “Howdy.”

Adam gave him a thin smile. “Howdy.” Gansey wrestled with himself. Apparently, this was visible because Adam sighed and said: “I’m fine, Gans. Let’s just . . . forget about it, okay?”

“Are you—”

“Do  _ not _ ask me if I am sure, right now.”

“Alright.”

“Alright.”

Gansely licked his lips. He crossed his legs under him. “Care to sit?”

Adam huffed. “I have homework.”

“You always have homework. Come, sit.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“You bitches patch shit up?” Ronan called from the kitchen/bathroom/laundry room.

Adam leaned backwards. “Fuck you!” he called.

“Sweet. OJ?”

“Please.” Adam said.

“Do I get OJ?” Gansey asked.

“I dunno, petition Santa Claus.”

“Lynch.”

“Dick.”

Gansey sighed. “Aur—  _ aurantiaco _ ? Uh, Shucus?”

“Close.  _ Sucus _ .” Ronan reemerged from the kitchen/bathroom/laundry room holding two glasses of orange juice and balancing one on his head.

“Shit, Lynch, you’re going to break a glass.” Adam laughed. 

“I have impeccable balance.”

“Uh huh, sure.” 

Gansey watched them. “May I have my orange juice, please?

Ronan rolled his eyes and turned to Adam. “He’s been complaining about his grades in Latin and yet he’s so damn whiney about my methods of tutoring.”

“Your methods of tutoring are being a jackass and withholding things from me when I can’t remember the words. He stole my clothes, Adam. I was taking a shower, a singular, innocent, shower and this malevolent beast took my clothes and put them in his car until I remembered the word for pants.”

“Did you eventually learn the word for pants?”

“Preposterous, I googled it when he wasn’t looking.”

Adam burst into laughter and Gansey felt a weight lift off of his shoulders. Ronan was watching Adam, he was always watching Adam, but that wasn’t a problem for Gansey to deal with. 

For now, he had a truth to tell.

  
  



	19. Blue

They were lying in silence, which had happened before, but it was rare. Owain had just finished ranting about the Virginia state bug, which was apparently the tiger swallowtail butterfly. Apparently, they symbolized transformation, inspiration, higher consciousness. Resurrection. When he’d finished talking, Blue had hummed and they fell into silence. It was loaded, and heavy, and peaceful.

She was about to ruin it.

“I have a soulmate.”

There wasn’t a response for a while. Then: “Pardon?”  
“A soulmate. I have one.”

“That’s. . . a soulmate.”

“Yeah.”

“Congratulations.” He did not sound like he meant it.

“I hate it.”

“Why?”

She turned to look at him. “Because they’re dead. There was supposed to be one person out there that would be perfect for me, and they’re dead.” She laughed, bitter and dull. “I mean what kind of fate is that? It’s not like I was going to save myself for them, and true love can suck my dick but. . .”

“The possibility.”

“Yeah.”

Owain rolled over and gently, God so gently, held her hand between his. “Jane. I’m sorry.”

She swallowed. “Thanks.”

“Were you, ah, excited? To eventually meet them?”

She shook her head. “No. I’ve got this, this prophecy stuck to me. Up until I was ten or so, I was supposed to kill my soulmate. I’d meet them, fall in love, and then when I kiss them, they would die.”

“Heavens, Jane.” Owain breathed harshly. “Heavens.”

“Yeah well, after that, my mom and her friends saw something else. That my soulmate was dead. And, this is the part that’s really fucked up, if I kiss them I will awaken them. What does that even mean?!” she cried. “Am I supposed to go graverobbing so that I can bring the one person in the universe back to life with a fucking nercomancy kiss?”

At some point, she’d thrown her hands in the air and Owain gently caught her wrists and brought them back down. “I. . . have a theory.”

“A theory?”

“A prophecy, yes? It’s most likely not nearly as simple as whatever you think of. These things rarely are.” He sounded hollow, lost.

Blue squinted at him. “You have experience with prophecies? With magic?”

He sat up and Blue joined him. His hair was tousled, glasses skewed and the top button of his shirt had been tugged open at some point. Blue wanted to crawl inside his skin and live there. The second she thought that, she imagined setting the thought on fire and burying the ashes six feet in the ground.

“I am going to tell you a story.” he said. “How much do you know about Welsh kings?”

  
  



	20. Gansey

A little while ago, a boy moved to small, insignificant Henrietta, Virginia, after years of hiking across Europe in search of a miracle. Henrietta was close to where his family lived, close to his childhood best friend, and more importantly, on a ley line, a line of magical power where there was said to be a king who could grant any wish if only you found him. This king was asleep, hidden away somewhere so that evil could not abuse his power to command even the shape of reality. The boy enrolled in a boy’s school, prestigious, expensive, rich, at the request of his family to maintain appearances in the midst of his quest. 

He attended with his friend, a creature of rage, emotion, honesty, and dreams. The Dreamer and the boy were eventually joined by another: a boy made of math, of logic, of fear and distrust. He was a magician of knowledge, of thought. The Magician learned of their quest and immediately volunteered to help, for he had things he wished to ask the sleeping king for. The Dreamer and the boy lived with a ghost that was more boy then ghost, except for when he wasn’t. And there they were, a Dreamer, a Magician, a Ghost, and a boy who led them all.

Together they wandered throughout caves and searched for clues, hints, anything. Eventually, they found a forest of wonder and magic that would shift on a whim to whatever they wanted. This simply had to be where the king was, how else could it be so magical? But the forest was a creature itself, knowing and thoughtful. The trees spoke, in a language only the Dreamer could speak, and they wanted hands, eyes, a body to view the rest of the world in. So the Magician gave himself to the forest, before any bad people could take it’s magic for themselves. The Dreamer revealed that the forest came from his head, from his imagination, his dreams, for he was a boy that could create matter from thought. 

For months, they wandered through the Dreamer’s forest as it whispered in the Magician’s ear. The Ghost came with them, for he was stronger there. After many dead ends, the boy was frustrated, for he wanted to find his king and he was certain the king was there, in the forest. One day, in a fit of rage, the boy yelled for the king to reveal himself, for him to bring them to him. At once, the ground opened and the boys, perhaps against their better judgement, went inside.

It was a tomb, a beautiful tomb, of magic and wonder and death. It was exactly what the boy had wished for, and yet, not at all. See, the king was there, in his tomb. But he was not asleep. He was dead, because people die, even magical kings, when they are trapped underground for thousands of years. There was no wish, no enchantment. They’d done the impossible, the boys, found the sleeping king. And yet, none of them were satisfied.

  
  



	21. Gansey

When Gansey finished speaking, Jane looked like she wasn’t breathing. “I, shit.”

“Apologies, I know it’s an overwhelming narrative.”

“No! Not, well yeah, but, I mean, shit, Owain. Shit.” She crawled over and wrapped her arms around him. “Holy shit.” 

He gingerly patted her shoulder. He hadn’t expected this kindness; to be held in the arms of a girl who sympathized with the loss of not finding his king. To anyone else, he must’ve sounded deranged. Obsessed. Privileged enough to have the worst heartbreak of his life be the lack of magic that he’d discovered. Jane was different, for reasons he could not explain.

“I appreciate your significant lack of. . .”

“Flipping the fuck out?”

“In so many words, yes.”

Jane pulled back and rested her small palm on his cheek. His lungs tightened with the urge to reach out to her. “It meant a lot to you. You went through a lot. I don’t think that’s anything to scoff at.”

“Meet my friends.” He said.

“Okay.”

  
  



	22. Blue

Blue was nervous. Why? She didn’t really know. She knew what for, of course. But why,  _ why _ did she care so much about what Owain’s friends thought? She wasn’t one for appearances. Why now? Why him?

These were all questions that were easily answerable, but she didn’t like the answer, so they remained questions in her mind.

It was Saturday. Twelve pm. And Owain was waiting outside of Nino’s in his ridiculous car. Blue had been staring at the thing for a solid minute. She walked to the door. Turned around. Turned back to the door.

“You got this, Sargent. It’s just Owain.” she breathed.

A customer nearby stared at her. She flipped him off and walked out the door. Owain was talking on the phone when she walked up and knocked on the window. He jumped and waved her inside. She tugged on the door handle and raised an eyebrow. Owain’s lips formed the words ‘oh shit’ and he scrambled to unlock the door for her. 

She was still laughing when she got in. “Dork.”

“Apologies, apologies, I was distracted.” he said. “Oh no, not you.” he said to his phone. “No. No. Well, of course he has to come! Jane is coming, I would hate to leave him out of the experience. Well— now, now, I can still hear him even though— tell him not to call me that!”

Blue giggled. From stories, she knew Owain’s friends were a rowdy bunch, mischievous and cunning, wild and wise. Hearing him fight battles on the phone only drove this home.

“Tell him that if he refuses to come and, include the and please, if he refuses to take you with him, I  _ will _ throw out the rubber duck. No, I am not joking, do I seem in a jesting mood? Yes, the one that plays that god awful song when you touch it. I will throw it away and it will be gone forever. Well, then if he has the audacity to dream another one, I’ll throw that one out too. Yes. Uh huh. See you there, goodbye.”

Owain sighed and looked at her. “Your friends sound like a handful.”

“My friends are wonderful if you look past how awful they can be.”

“Sounds like a good time.”

Owain pulled out of the parking lot. “They’re good people.”

They pulled up on the side of a dirt road. He put the car in park but made no move to get out. Blue watched his hands flex and unflex around the wheel of his car. He took a breath. Put a mint leaf in his mouth.

“Owain.”

“Yes, hello.”

“ _ Owain _ .”

He took another breath and whipped around to face her. “May I dare to ask you to promise me something that you only have minute control over?”  
“Uh. Sure?”

“Wonderful. No matter what you see in there, don’t be mad at me?”

“Sure.”

“Jane.” The name was strangled, torn from his throat with claws of anxiety and concern.

She felt her expression soften. “I’ll do my best.”

“Okay.” More deep breaths. “One more thing.”

“Yeah?”  
He stuck a hand out, as if he wanted a handshake. Brown eyes met hers head on. “Hello. My name is Richard Campell Gansey III, though I much prefer to go by my last name. I am the son of republican Senator Gansey of Virginia and I’m in my second semester of my junior year of high school at Aglionby Academy for Boys. I enjoy archeology, anthropology and mythology. I have been to the majority of the countries in Europe and I enjoy hiking and spelunking in caves. I suffer from insomnia, a horrific bee allergy, and PTSD from when I died when I was ten years old.” He smiled at her, bright, honest, and a little scared. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Blue couldn’t help it, she laughed at him. “Richard Campell Gansey  _ III _ ?”

“It’s a family name!”

“Uh huh.”

“It is.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” His hand was still stuck out, hovering over the parking brake. “Let’s do this. Hi. My name is Blue Sargent. Blue like the color, yes, I know it’s strange but it’s my name. My mother is a psychic, my father is a tree, I live with a minimum of four other women at any given time, all of which have the ability to see the future or hidden truths. I enjoy sewing, craft making, learning about the environment and different animal species and I have no clue what I’m going to do with my life after high school.”

A hand clasped over her mouth and Blue rocked backwards slightly with the force. Owain,  _ Gansey _ , leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers. “I’m terribly sorry if I startled you, I simply. . .” He let out a laugh. “God, Blue, I want to kiss you.”

Her name had never quite sounded like that. She wanted to hear it again and again and again. Slowly, she lifted a hand and copied him, pressing a palm gently to his lips. Eyes widened behind wire rimmed glasses and he pushed forward, ever so slightly. They stayed like that for a moment, hands over mouths, eyes closed, and foreheads touching. 

Blue ached. She ached for possibility, for love, for a chance, for the magic and wonder that this boy came with. She ached for him so much it felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to her chest. 

“Gansey,” she whispered. The word felt strange against her lips. It felt like confession.

“Blue,” he sighed. “We have to meet my friends.”  
“I wanna stay here.”

“That is a terribly seductive suggestion.” A beat past. “I didn’t mean it that way! I didn’t mean to insinuate anything, of course, I merely meant that the offer was temptings, clearly. You are positively wonderful and I greatly enjoy spending time with you, thus. . .” he trailed off. “Feel free to stop me at any time.”

“Oh no, I think I’ll let you keep talking.”

They were both laughing, but the kind of laughter borne of simple happiness. Of joy. 

“Let’s go. They’re waiting.”

“And who’s fault is that?”  
“Is it mine?”  
“Uh huh.”

“Marvellous.”

They held hands as they walked towards a forest of wonder.

  
  



	23. Gansey

Blue looked like she was five seconds away from punching him in the face. “Gansey,” she said slowly. “What the fuck?”

“Ta da.” he said weakly.

“Hey, Blue.” Adam said, waving from his spot, which was, notably, out of the Blue Blast Zone.

She pointed at him. “I only want to kill you marginally less than him, you’re not exactly off the hook.”

Adam slowly put his hand down. Next to him, Ronan barked with laughter. “Wassup, Maggot?”

“Suck my dick, you snake.” she called back. Her voice was light, despite her words, and, dare he say, even kind of friendly.

Gansey gaped at her. “You’re not mad at Ronan?”

“Lynch? No. I mean, he’s an asshole to the third degree, but I’m willing to bet big money he’d have told me right away if it weren’t for you, or Adam, and your wish to keep things a secret.”

“It’s not like you were offering up any forgiving clues into your identity!”  
“You _could_ have told me that the people in your stories were the same people I knew!”

Gansey kicked the ground. “I was a bit . . . frightened perhaps.”

Jane (Blue,  _ Blue _ ) sighed. “Whatever. Lemme see this magic forest of yours.”

“Well, technically it’s Ronan’s.”

Ronan kicked a rock. “Forest doesn’t belong to anyone, fuckers. Let’s move.” And so they did, traipsing further into Cabeswater after him. Gansey kept looking over at Blue, watching her watch the forest. Her face was turned upwards to the leaves as they subtly shifted colors. For a moment, he wished this was also his first time in Cabeswater. He wished that he could share the experience of seeing this incredible, undeniable, proof of magic for the first time. He soon banished the thought, because the sight of Cabeswater never really dulled. He was used to it, yes, but the majesty never faded.

“Jane!” he called to her. “Come here.”

Blue walked over and knelt down, skirt brushing the fallen leaves below. “You know, you don’t have to call me Jane anymore.”

He felt his face warm and turned his attention to the small stream in front. “I. . . would like to. If it is alright with you.”

“Nerd.” She dipped her fingers in the cold water. “Why Owain?”

“Oh, no reason.” he said, perhaps, a bit too airily.”

“Gansey.” He regretted telling her his name; her chiding voice had far too much power.

“Glendower. Owain Glendower. He is,  _ was _ , the sleeping king.” he muttered.

Blue burst into laughter. “Oh my God! You dork!”

“Don’t use His name as a curse.” Ronan said as he ambled over.

“Gansey named himself after the Welsh king. We were using like, these made up names, yeah? And this fucking  _ dork _ , told me to call him Owain!” 

Ronan laughed, loud, unrestrained. “Christ, Dick.”

“At least he’s consistent.” said a bright voice.

All three of them jumped about a foot in the air. “Fuck, Noah! Give a guy a warning.”

Noah shrugged and splashed in the water. He looked particularly solid today. Whole. Real. Alive.

“Wonderful of you to join us.” Gansey said. “This is Blue.”

“Hi,” Blue said, sticking her hand out. “You must be the ghost roommate.”

Noah smiled. “You’re very pretty.” He grasped her hand and Gansey saw something lock into place. It was akin to clicking the little wand button while editing a photo to ‘enhance’ it. Noah’s image snapped into reality. “Oh,” he said.

“Huh,” Blue said.

“What fuck.” Ronan said.

“Hey, guys.” Adam said.

“Oh, Adam. I do believe Blue’s, ah,  _ latent _ psychic ability as an affect on our dear friend here.”

Adam looked at Noah, and then looked at Blue. “Sweet.”

Blue looked around at all of them, at Cabeswater, and grinned.

Gansey’s chest felt very, very heavy. He couldn’t bring himself to wish the feeling away.

  
  



	24. Blue

Blue found herself settling in quickly with the Raven Boys. Part of her was surprised, they were, after all, the richest of the rich. Well, Adam was an exception there but he was smart enough that he blended in.

Part of her was more surprised at how easy it felt to be with them. How right. There was a feeling inside her that said ‘why  _ wouldn’t _ we all be together?’. Merely two months had passed since she learned Gansey’s name, and yet she couldn’t imagine not being friends with them. Not yelling along to songs in Ronan’s car, not letting Noah braid her hair, not quipping back and forth with Adam, not making fun of Gansey’s closet.

And they had their Tuesdays. Tuesdays were for secrets, for knowledge, for stars and palms pressed against lips and whispers given to the fireflies.

“Why Tuesdays?” she asked him one day.

He blinked at her. “The rowing team has practice Mondays and Wednesday, and Thursdays are for studying with Adam and Fridays are for Ronan and Noah, and Adam, of course, when he doesn’t have work.”

Blue knocked her shoulder into his. “They’re really like your second family, huh?”

He leaned his head against hers. “I find they’re more my first.”

She hummed. She looked at him, this boy of wonder and possibility, and felt peace in her bones.

Of course, the world was a cruel master, and peace could not last forever.

It was a normal evening. An average evening. Things like this tend to happen on the most mundane of evenings. It wasn’t even a Tuesday. 

Blue was a Monmouth, a place she found herself at more often than not. Gansey was scribbling furiously in a handbound journal and she was attempting to finish her chemistry homework. 

“Why the fuck would I  _ ever _ need know the equation needed to shift electrons?” she grumbled.

Adam poked his head out of the kitchen/bathroom/laundry room. “Chemistry?”

“Chemistry.”

“Yikes.” He sat down next to her. “I like physics better.”

“Nerd.”

“Blue, I literally go to a private academy.”

“ _ Nerd. _ ”

He just rolled his eyes. “Give it here.” He checked her work, writing notes and making tick marks in the margins whenever she had something wrong.

Goosebumps erupted on Blue’s skin. 

“Ronan.” Noah’s voice said. 

She stood and spun around trying to find him. “Noah? Where are you?”

The lights flickered above. Gansey opened the door to Noah’s room. “Noah?”

“Ronan.” was all he said.

Adam’s eyes widened. “He’s in the parking lot!”

They threw themselves out the door and down the stairs. Blue couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe. The sunlight was dying, bloody and pink, blushing against pale clouds.

He was in his car. Adam wretched the car door open. 

Gansey gasped. “He’s dreaming.”

Ronan didn’t look like he was dreaming. He looked like he was dying. His face was covered in a black sludge and his body was shaking in the driver's seat. Adam grabbed his face, shaking him.

“Lynch. Dammit. Ronan! Wake up, c’mon.” he begged. Blue had never heard him beg. She hated it.

Beside her, Gansey’s breaths were coming faster and faster. “What do I— God, Ronan.”

Adam turned towards him. “Gansey. Wake him up.”

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“You  _ can _ . Please, Gansey. Tell him to wake up.”

More head shaking. “I couldn’t if I wanted to. I haven’t been able to since we found Glendower.”

“Someone fill me in.” Blue snapped. “Before our friend dies please.”

“When we were in Cabeswater looking for Glendower, Gansey commanded the forest to bring him to us. It was like the earth would move if he told it to.”

Gansey was trembling. “I’ve tried, since. It simply won’t work. The power is gone.”

Blue looked at Ronan, pale and fragile against the leather of the BMW. “Maybe not.”

“What?” Adam asked. 

She grabbed Gansey by the shoulders. “Do you trust me?” she asked him.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Nodded.

Blue had imagined her first kiss before. Of course she had. She’s imagined kissing someone and them dropping, dead, to their knees the second her lips brushed theirs. She’d imagined the soft, gentle kiss, she’d give to a Snow White type figure. The eyes that fluttered with sleep, eyes that woke when she pulled away.

She never imagined this. Standing in the parking lot of an abandoned factory, as their friend dies in front of them. The pain of a too fast kiss and teeth pressing against her lips. There was no time for swooning, for fireworks.

She pushed him away. “Tell him to wake up.”

Gansey had a million questions in his eyes but he listened. Adam stepped out of the way.

“Ronan.” Gansey said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “ _ Wake up. _ ”


	25. Gansey

Aglionby held finals, much like any other school, at the end of the school year. However, the students weren’t allowed to leave campus for their vacations until after the closing ceremony. So, Gansey found himself stuck in a row with the rest of the boys whose last names started with R, watching his cowboy boot clad principal give a speech. Somewhere to his left, Adam turned to Ronan behind him and whispered something in his ear. Gansey ached to be with them.

“Ganseyman.” someone hissed behind him.

Gansey turned around. “Henry? Why are you all the way over here? Isn’t your seat up by the front?”

Henry shrugged. “I’m student council president.”

He supposed that was the only answer he’d get. “How may I help you?”

“I got a, a  _ thing _ that’s right up your alley.”

“A thing?”

“Yes.”

Gansey twisted around further. “Do tell.”

“There’s a little expedition. Non profit. It’s a cultural road trip, essentially. Brazil. Looking for some old ruins, signs of forgotten civilizations. There’s only a few spots left, so I snagged one. It sounded like a Three thing, so I thought I’d do the polite thing and bring it to you. It’s two months, summer. Leaves in June.”

“I’m. . . flattered. Truly. But I have some qualms.”

Henry flapped his hand. “Just shoot me a message when you want a spot or two.”

It was appealing. Travelling in Brazil in search of the new, the old. Gansey could picture himself there, skin sticky from the humidity, mind alive with knowledge. He’s still thinking about it when they all bustle into Nino’s for dinner. 

“What’s happening upstairs, Dick?” Ronan said around a mouthful of pizza.

“Don’t talk with your mouthful.” Adam said.

Ronan opened his mouth wider. Adam looked unimpressed. Noah balled up his straw wrapper and tossed it inside. “Score!” he shouted.

The table shook as Blue set down a pitcher of iced tea. “Excuse me, misters, but there are other customers here. I’m going to have to ask you to calm yourselves.” she said, glaring. Despite the clearly practiced speech, she was smiling ever so slightly.

“Jane!” Gansey said. “Hello! How was your day? Has work been slow? I hope you haven't been terribly bored.”

“Hello. Fine. Not really. I’m usually bored; I’m a waitress.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the check. “Hey.” she said softly.

“Hi.” he said back.

Ronan gagged. Adam threw his straw at him.

Gansey blinked at the straw bounced off of his glasses. “I rue the day I introduced you to Ronan.” he said.

Adam gave him a grin, mocking, carefree, boyish.

Ronan gave him teeth, sharp, gleaming, happy.

Blue leaned down to his ear. “How long do you think it’ll take them to figure all that out?”

Gansey sighed. “I truly have no idea anymore.”

“Soon.” Noah said, despite the fact that he wasn’t part of the conversation. “Soon.”

  
  



	26. Blue

It was Tuesday. The air was beginning to sag with the humidity of May. Fireflies blinked through the air. Blue watched them pass like stars. She dumped the bags in the trash can and turned towards the side of the road.

There was Gansey. King of the night. King of them all. Something like love bubbled up in her throat. Moonlight shone down on his hair and the streetlight reflected off of his glasses.

She cared for him so much that her ribs ached.

“Hey,” she said, greeting him with a soft kick to the back. “What’s up?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re really setting yourself up for a horrific pun there, are you aware?”

She snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Scooch over.” Gansey did in fact scooch over, but she ended up practically in his lap anyway. They watched the tops of the grass wave in the soft summer wind.

“Summer is here.” he said.

“Yeah.”

“Do you happen to. . . have any plans?”

“Work. Avoid my cousin. Hang out with you guys.”

Gansey turned towards her and Blue let herself be swallowed in his eyes. “I’ve received word of this function. I want to know if you’d be interested.”

  
  



	27. Epilouge

_ (10:57 pm): Henry! Do you remember telling me about that expedition earlier? _

(10:58 pm): Ganseyman!

(10:58 pm): yea wassup

_ (10:59 pm): Out of curiosity, how many spots are still open? _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> To Be Continued
> 
> I will make an Adam and Ronan sequel, but it'll take a while.
> 
> Leave a comment and kudos! I love hearing from y'all  
> Come chat on Tumblr https://monstersanonymous.tumblr.com


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